


A Thief Redux

by GalahadWilder



Series: KleptoMariac [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Kleptomania, Kleptomaniac Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug Episode, Ladybug spoilers, Lila Vengeance, Lila downfall, Lila gets hoist by her own petard, Lila petard hoist, Post-Ladybug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-11-08 16:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/pseuds/GalahadWilder
Summary: Lila's plan to get Marinette expelled has backfired. As she makes increasingly desperate plans to ruin her, Marinette's compulsive thievery keeps interfering... and soon Lila won't have any arrows left in her quiver at all.





	1. A Cellular Mix-Up

Lila Rossi has not been having a good week. She’d been planning to frame Marinette for a month now, and the whole plan went down the tubes in _seconds_. She got chewed out by both Gabriel _and_ Hawkmoth (who she’s pretty sure are the same person, but she hasn’t quite gotten enough evidence to prove it); apparently he’d been all set for a repeat of Scarlet Moth and nothing had happened. And isn’t that _galling_—even _Hawkmoth_ has ridiculous amounts of faith in Dupain-Cheng, if he thinks destroying her image is enough to pull a repeat of what required _turning Ladybug and killing Chat Noir_ the first time.

Everybody loves Marinette, even Paris’ worst terrorist, and it is _infuriating_.

Framing people for things isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Theft is easier; people leave stuff like their lockers and their backpacks unguarded all the time, thinking that if you can’t steal from them you can’t hurt them. Nobody ever thinks about sneaking things _in_. Except that that won’t work on Marinette now, because everyone in the class somehow finds it _endearing_ when she steals from them? It’s ridiculous!

She needs another plan. Something foolproof, something that won’t backfire on her, something that won’t be traced back. Unfortunately, she has nothing.

A week passes by of people assuming that her and Marinette are finally becoming friends, and Marinette is so cloying, so sweet, and Lila just wants to strangle her with her own intestines but she has to keep up the image so she pretends to be just as sweet back. But in private… in private she’s scheming.

* * *

Adrien has a fencing meet on Friday, and Lila knows that Marinette is going to be distracted. She’s distracted by _anything_ involving Adrien. So during the meet, when everyone is distracted watching Adrien and Kagami tear up the competition, Lila sneaks into the locker room.

She learned to pick locks ages ago—it’s astounding what you can learn from internet tutorials. In seconds, Marinette’s locker swings open, presenting its secrets like a chest of pirate treasure.

The inside of the door is wallpapered with photos of Adrien—expected, if gross—and also one or two of Chat Noir, which is downright _offensive_. The inside of the locker doesn’t have much in it—a few books, a bag, things Lila could steal to give Mari a fright but nothing in particular she could use to ruin her. A missed or redone assignment or two is nothing.

Lila sighs, flips open Marinette’s custom pink briefcase/backpack thing. There has to be _something_…

That’s—that’s a phone. She just… left her phone in her locker?

Lila lifts the smartphone gingerly out of the bag, cups it between her hands. It has a Ladybug appliqué on the back, which is surprising, she never took Dupain-Cheng for the type. Still, she can’t believe her luck—she can wreak _so much havoc_ with this.

“Say goodbye to your friends, Cheng,” she says, leaning forward to breathe on the screen. The fingerprints for the passcode show up, swirling gaps in the clouds of condensation, and Lila grins. “Who should I message first?”

* * *

Adrien lunges, and the tip of his blade slams into his opponent’s torso, the scoring machine lighting up red behind him with a honking buzz. Alya leaps to her feet. “GO SUNSHINE!”

Adrien twists to look at her, and at Mari (who is currently attempting to hide behind her), and he salutes with two fingers.

“TAKE HIM OUT!” Alya screams, holding up a fist, and Adrien jerks backward in surprise. Alya smirks. What kind of friend would she be if she didn’t mock him a little bit?

“That’s… not how this works, Alya!” Marinette squeaks, tugging on her arm, yanking her back into her seat.

“I know,” Alya replies. “But did you see the look on his face?”

Marinette tilts her head and raises an eyebrow.

Alya laughs. “Okay, poor choice of words,” she says, turning back to look at the fencers—all of whom are wearing helmets that completely obscure their faces. Still, she imagines that Adrien’s expression was hilarious, and damn, she wishes she could’ve gotten a picture.

As if reading her mind, her phone buzzes a text notification.

She looks down, confused. Who’s texting her right now? She’s busy—everyone she knows knows not to text her unless it’s about an Akuma, and if it’s a family emergency she’d be getting a call, not a text.

She reaches into the pocket she’d had Marinette add to her jeans and yanks the phone out, turning it as she pulls so the case won’t catch on the denim, then taps the side button to pull up the text. Two more arrive as she does:

> **Adrien:** hey Alya
> 
> **Adrien:** uh
> 
> **Adrien:** I’m not sure I can be friends with you anymore

…What.

Alya looks up. Adrien is… definitely currently on the gym floor, determinedly brushing aside his opponent’s sword. There is no way he even has his phone _on_ him, much less is texting her right now.

> **Alya:** what do you mean?
> 
> **Adrien:** it’s just
> 
> **Adrien:** it’s impossible to get you to listen to me anymore

Alya blinks, glances back up—buzzer honk, Adrien just won the point. Or, apparently not, there’s a technicality, something about right of way. Any other time she’d have asked Mari to explain, but right now she looks back at her phone. What the _fuck?_

> **Alya:** what are you talking about?
> 
> **Adrien:** with Lila! You refuse to listen that she’s lying to you
> 
> **Adrien:** and you keep dumping stuff on me when you KNOW I have no free time
> 
> **Alya:** Wait what
> 
> **Adrien:** and pushing me into talking to Adrien when I’m clearly not ready!
> 
> **Alya:** back up please
> 
> **Adrien:** I mean seriously when’s the last time you did anything for me without forcing me into it
> 
> **Alya:** Mari???
> 
> **Adrien:** ALYA PLEASE JUST LISTEN

Alya glances to her right, and there’s Marinette, 100% not holding or even _looking_ at a phone—she’s too busy watching… ah, her eyes are locked on Adrien’s patoot.

She jostles Marinette with her shoulder. “Hey, Mari?”

“Hmm?” Marinette says. She seems to be fugueing a little—her eyes haven’t left Adrien’s rippling glutes.

“Do you know where Adrien’s phone is?” Alya whispers.

Marinette’s gaze immediately snaps away from Adrien, and she shrinks, clasps her hands between her legs. “Um.”

Alya raises an eyebrow.

“It’s… it’s in my locker,” Marinette mumbles, staring at her hands with reddened cheeks. She blinks upwards. “I swear I was—I was gonna give it back!” She squeezes her elbows together and sigh, looking back at her feet. “…Well, after it finished defragging.”

Another buzzer honk from down below, but Alya isn’t even paying attention to that now. Instead, she smirks, clutching Marinette’s forearm. “It’s okay,” Alya says. “He’s gonna be flattered, remember?”

Marinette closes her eyes and nods. She’s clearly still feeling guilty about it, but her body loosens a little.

“But,” Alya continues, holding out her phone, “you need to see this.”

> **Adrien:** I’ve tried to be your friend, Alya, I’ve really tried
> 
> **Adrien:** but what’s even the point anymore?
> 
> **Adrien:** the pics for my website are terrible, I had to hire a professional to fix them
> 
> **Adrien:** like
> 
> **Adrien:** do the readers of the tabloid you call a blog even CARE about quality?

“_Adrien_ is sending this?” Marinette shrieks, launching to her feet.

The entire stands turn to look at her, and Adrien stumbles, his opponent’s sword striking him in the chest. Buzzer honk.

Marinette flushes to “not-breathing-purple,” her eyes nearly popping out of her skull, and she drops back to her seat, cradling Alya’s phone with her hands. Then she looks down, sees Adrien on the gym floor. “That…” Her eyes narrow. “What.”

“I think whoever’s sending this,” Alya says, taking the phone back as everyone returns to watching the match, “is pretending to be _you_.”

> **Adrien:** I think it’s best if we don’t talk anymore
> 
> **Adrien:** block my number and don’t come back to the bakery again
> 
> **Adrien:** please don’t approach me at school either
> 
> **Adrien:** I’m sorry
> 
> **Adrien:** but I think this is for the best
> 
> **Alya:** …okay. If you’re sure.
> 
> **Adrien:** I am

Marinette’s face steels and she pops open her purse, pulling out her phone. In a single second, she’s transformed from nervous wreck into Everyday Ladybug, and she has a plan.

“What are you doing?” Alya says.

“Texting everyone in the class,” Marinette says, not looking up.

Alya’s phone dings.

> **Marinette to Group Chat:** someone stole Adrien’s phone and is pretending to be me. They’re gonna say a whole bunch of mean things. Don’t believe them.

Alya grins, locking her phone and forcing it back into her pocket. “Attagirl,” she says, then tilts her head. “Um…”

Marinette’s eyes flick up. “Yeah?”

Alya swallows. Most of what the thief had sent was clearly precisely targeted lies, but… “Have I been… pushing you too much? With Adrien?”

Marinette’s face falls, and Alya knows the answer.

* * *

Lila giggles as she sends the last message to Alya. Marinette’s relationship with her is wrecked, unrecoverable, and she can’t wait to see the fallout.

She scrolls through the phone contacts, looking for Adrien, but there’s no number there. “God, is she that much of a coward that she never even got his _number_?” she hisses. Inconvenient—infuriating.

Okay, next. Randomize maybe? She slides her thumb across the contacts list, letting it roll past, then stops randomly.

Hmm. Father? Oddly formal for Marinette, but still an opportunity. Lila grins wickedly beginning to plan a message for Marinette’s dad.


	2. Dramatics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: as always when I write Gabriel in non-crack fics, this chapter features emotional abuse. It also references self-harm, but none actually occurs.

It turns out that it’s much harder to say anything to Marinette’s parents than Lila expected. Because, for some bizarre reason, Marinette actually respects her parents. And not the way Adrien does—out of fear—but in a way that implies that, somehow, they actually _earned_ it.

Which means half the messages she’d normally send would get her caught immediately. She may be able to fake that kind of relationship with her _own_ mother, but Martina Rossi has never really paid attention to her. As far as she can tell, Marinette's parents _do_. Which means they'll notice if she messes this up even _slightly_.

She sighs, sending off a few messages to Rose, Alix, and Ivan while she tries to figure out what to say to Tom and Sabine. One to Myléne, one to Sabrina. Teenagers are easier to manipulate than adults—they're all convinced people secretly hate them. She's just proving them right. Their worst fears about Marinette come to light.

Then, inspiration strikes. What's a parent's worst fear about their child?

_Losing them._

She scrolls back through the contacts, skipping over "Princess"—actually, hang on. What is _that_ about? Does Marinette have a secret girlfriend? That would be interesting. Nothing she knows what to do with yet, though. Stick to the plan, go through with the idea before she loses it.

She taps on "Father," then "New Message."

> **Adrien:** Papa? I don't think it's safe for me to stay at school anymore
> 
> **Adrien: **Everything's... too much. Too much pressure. Everyone's turning on me
> 
> **Adrien: **Papa
> 
> **Adrien: **I keep thinking about hurting myself

There's no response, which is a bit of a surprise. Maybe M. Dupain is busy at the bakery? Usually she would expect Marinette's family to be right on top of something like that.

Oh well. Lila shrugs with a grin, checking the time on the phone. The meet still has another twenty minutes to go—that's plenty of time.

She opens a text to Max. 

* * *

"You have Nathalie's number?" Alya says as Adrien removes his helmet, steps forward, shakes his opponent's hand.

Marinette nods without looking up from her phone, not even at Adrien—she's on a _mission_ now, and there's a fire behind her eyes that screams _I am the Class President for a reason. Get out of my way._ "How do you think we organized the seats at the fashion show?" she says.

"You mean the one where we pissed off Chloé's mom?" Alya says. She shudders at the sudden remembrance of every part of her body catching fire as she turned to glitter, and immediately shoves that down.

Marinette snorts. "Not like that's hard," she says, jamming her thumb down on her screen. "Okay, she knows. She's going to be shutting down the number shortly."

"Great! Glad that's... settled." Alya looks down at her hands, her fingers twiddling, and for a moment she can taste the metal of the bleachers just beyond them, the coppery taste settling right behind her teeth where they meet her gums. "Um," she says. "Something else that imposter said."

Marinette looks up from her phone. "Alya?"

”You—you’re stealing things again,” Alya says. She can't quite meet Marinette's eyes. “And you said you haven’t been sleeping.”

Marinette looks at her, swallows. Bites her lip, slowly lowers her phone to the bleachers. "Yeah."

”This isn’t just about Adrien,” Alya says. “How—” Her throat slams shut around her words; she _knows_ she's at fault here, she _knows_ she's been in denial about how much stress Marinette is under. But... but apologizing would mean admitting _exactly_ how bad of a friend she's been lately and while she _needs to_, knowing it and _saying_ it are two very different things. She can’t quite manage it. “I keep dumping babysitting on you,” she whispers instead. “How long as it been since you had a break?” Come to think of it... “I haven’t seen your design book in weeks.”

Marinette closes her eyes. “It’s—it’s okay, Alya,” she says, with an utter lack of conviction.

Alya’s heart drops, and her stomach begins to crawl, burning, up into her lungs. How much has she been hurting Marinette?

It doesn’t matter. Any amount is too much for their Everyday Ladybug, and she doesn’t even have to consider her decision before she flings herself bodily at her friend. “You don’t have to babysit every time I ask you to,” Alya says, hugging Marinette’s head to her chest. “You’re _allowed_ to say no.”

Marinette stiffens, then relaxes into her grip. ”Don’t wanna disappoint people,” She whispers.

Alya grimaces. “You can’t serve from an empty cup, Marimuffin,” she says, rubbing her knuckles into Marinette’s scalp. “You have to take care of _you_ first.”

“People don’t always listen.” Marinette looks up at her, eyes wet. “_You_ don’t always listen.”

Alya’s eyes widen, and she swallows. “I—oh,” she says. “I... I didn’t realize.” She closes her eyes, breathes in through her nose. “I’ll... be more careful, about that,” she says. “In the future. And... I’ll make sure everyone else respects your boundaries too.”

Marinette just nods.

* * *

Lila is starting to get antsy. There's only a few minutes left in the fencing meet, and Marinette's father _still_ hasn't messaged her back. The longer she has the phone, the more likely she is to get caught—but if she doesn't hold onto it, if she's not _there_ when the message is returned, she's not going to be able to seal the deal, to _properly_ hurt Dupain-Cheng through her family.

"Come on, come on," she whispers, willing the phone to sound. _Pick up the damn phone, you useless excuse for a baker._

It dings, vibrating in her hand, and her heart leaps in her chest. _"Yes!"_ she hisses under her breath. 

> **Father: **Stop the dramatics. This is not how you were raised to act.

Lila's eyes widen as a chill shatters through her veins. This—this doesn't sound like Marinette's father. This is _not how she expected him to act_. Is she—Marinette's parents are so perfect in public. Marinette seems to love them _so much. _Did Lila misread them all? How?

Is _that_ why she can't seem to beat Marinette? Because the girl is impossible to read?

She falls forward, leans onto the next locker. This is _not_ how she expected this to go, but... _but_. She looks back at the phone, and a grin widens onto her face. _I__t's still working._

> **Father: **I told you that public school would be too much for you, but you insisted. I have half a mind to leave you there to sort out your own problems.
> 
> **Father: **Honestly, sometimes you are as bad as your mother.

Lila's eyebrow raises as she turns her back to the locker, trying to stifle a cackle with her mouth. _As bad as your mother?_ Something must be _truly_ rotten in the Dupain-Cheng household. 

> **Father: **If this is how you react to public school, then I will be pulling you out immediately. I'm glad you finally agree with me about your friends. They will no longer be allowed in contact with you.
> 
> **Father: **You will, of course, be giving up your phone. Clearly your time spent on the internet is doing damage to your mental health.

Lila presses a hand to her mouth to muffle a shriek of delight. This—she could not have _imagined_ things going this well!

She glances toward the gym. Oh, she's _won_. "Hope you're enjoying your last ever gasp of freedom, Dupain-Cheng," she sneers.

* * *

The fencing meet is declared over, and both teams start packing up the equipment. It's easy to pick out Kagami, even though she's begun wearing white—every move she makes is impatient, swift. Adrien, on the other hand, is slow, deliberate. He doesn't seem to want to finish.

Alya snatches Marinette's hand and leaps to her feet, yanking the other girl up with her. She yelps, catches her foot on one of the bleachers, and stumbles; Alya is barely able to catch her in time.

The twelve other people in the stands, Adrien, Milo, Jean, Kagami, and Heloise all look up at the noise. Alya can see concern on Adrien and Kagami's faces, so she gives them a nervous thumbs-up. Marinette whines, hiding her face behind Alya's shoulder.

Satisfied, everyone turns back to what they were doing—except Adrien, who's still watching them.

"Okay, girl," Alya says, placing a steadying hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I need to go talk to Adrien to tell him what's going on." She breathes in, closes her eyes. _Don't pressure her, _she reminds herself. Breathes out. "Are you good to come with, or do you need to stay behind?"

Marinette blinks up at her owlishly. "Um," she says, her cheeks pinking the tiniest amount. "I... think I'll come with?"

Alya's eyes narrow at the reticence in Mari's voice, but she nods. "Okay," she says. "I can do the talking?"

Marinette nods a silent _yes please_, her mouth tight, her eyes wide with distress. Little signs that Alya has been missing—has her Adrien-anxiety been getting _worse?_ And Alya _didn't notice this whole time?_

Alya wants to punch herself in the gut. This is _not_ how a friend should act.

She climbs down the bleachers—over the seats themselves, because who even _uses_ the aisles aside from Marinette (because of her coordination issues)—stepping on each seat like stones of a river, dragging Marinette behind her. Adrien watches them come.

They thread their way between fencers, coaches, and referees, making their way across the gym floor toward Adrien.

"Hey guys," he says as the get close. He looks at Mari. "You... shouted my name earlier?"

Alya opens her mouth to speak, but the Marinette voca-motive steamrolls her first.

"Someonestoleyourphone!" Marinette gasps.

Adrien's eyebrows narrow. "Was... that someone... you?" he says, confused.

Marinette squeaks, hunching her shoulders and trying to hide behind Alya.

Okay, time to take over. "Well, yes and no," Alya says, hugging Marinette's shoulder. "It looks like someone broke into Mari's locker."

Adrien's eyes soften. "Oh," he says, looking at Marinette, and _wow, _Alya can _see_ the shoujo bubbles in his eyes. How does this boy not know he's—no. Nope. Not pushing this.

"Whoever it is," Alya says, "they think the phone is Mari's." She hands Adrien her phone. "They're sending really nasty things to everyone, pretending to be her."

Adrien takes the phone, scrolls through it, and starts _growling_. He looks up, meets Mari's eyes. "Ten euros it's _her_."

Marinette's eyes flick down. "No bet," she mumbles.

Alya looks between them. "_Her? _Who are we talking about?"

Adrien and Marinette meet wide eyes, lips pursed. Marinette swallows.

Alya's eyebrows narrow. What are they—

"I was _wondering_ why you stole from her,” Adrien says. “You didn’t, did you?”

Marinette shakes her head, sucking her lip. “She was trying to frame me,” she says.

Adrien nods, holds up the phone. "You left her off the group chat."

”Guys?” Alya asks. “What’s going on?”

Adrien sighs, rolling his shoulder. “I think it’s time we talked to you about Lila,” he says.

* * *

Normally, Gabriel would prefer to avoid Akumatizing his son. It’s a pragmatic thing for when he reveals his identity as Hawkmoth—any Akuma that goes after Adrien, Gabriel can claim is an accident, that they somehow got out of control or he didn’t know the target. But sending a butterfly to infect his son directly isn’t something that can be so easily explained away, and might ruin any inclination Adrien might have to help him, Emelie or not.

And yet, right now, Adrien is devastated. He’s always been so adamant about remaining in school, even down to breaking what few rules Gabriel imposes—if he wants to pull out, something terrible must have happened. Something that gives Gabriel an opportunity.

"Dark Wings Rise!" he cries, and in moments, he is once again purple-clad, searching out his son's familiar emotions. He finds him, exactly where he expects: the fencing meet.

Except... his emotions aren't at all what Hawkmoth expected of him. He should be spiraling right now—Adrien's emotions have always been dramatic, and he's always been too weak to control them, despite Gabriel's best efforts to teach him otherwise. No matter how firm Gabriel is with him to act his age, the boy always seems to break down whenever Gabriel speaks to him. And yet that's not how Adrien seems to be feeling right now. He seems... determined?

Hawkmoth is stunned. There's nothing for an Akuma to latch onto. He's not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He's a little proud, though. And also kind of confused. Is he missing something?

He jumps as his cane buzzes. "Hello?" he says, flipping it open.

"Sir?" Nathalie says.

"What is it?" Hawkmoth snaps. "I'm very busy."

"I've just received disturbing news about Lila Rossi," Nathalie says. And as she explains what his—he's increasingly realizing, _inept—_spy has done, Gabriel feels his rage begin to grow.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr.](http://www.galahadwilder.tumblr.com)


End file.
